The Scent of Power
by Ishuzu
Summary: Bakura muses on why he left his residence in Domino with Ryou and Co. Not your normal depressed-Bakura-fic, hopefully. Surprising (very surprising!) pairing


Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Too bad for me since so much of my life revolves around the characters. Oh, well. Oh, and I AM aware that Seto's Egyptian name is Seth, or Set, but in this story, he's Seto. So please don't remind me of this in your review. I KNOW. K, anyway, hope you like this fic. It's very one-shotty and choppy so lets see where it goes. Is it fated to be a one-shot or shall I continue? Credit goes to Isa for coming up with Bakura's past with me. You rock, cuz! (Oh, and neither of us own "Bother" by Corey Taylor, or at least the version I know is. Ciao!)  
  
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Chapter 1: Bother  
  
In an apartment on a dark street, residing in a cold and lost part of Domino City, a snow-haired boy lay on his back, a bottle of tequila tipped over in his hand, alcohol soaking into the shag. He started at the ceiling, and waited. Waited for the courage to take the blade sitting beside him and slit the soft flesh on his wrists. Instead, he was met with tears brimming on his eyelids. By Ra, he was crying. Oh, Fuck!  
  
//Wish I was too dead to cry  
  
The self affliction fades//  
  
Why did he want to kill himself anyway? That seemed strange, depressing... and weak. Not like him at all. Well, the strange and depressing parts were dead-on but weak? No. He hated this new life he'd been given, thrown it all away, lost the only person who meant anything to him, and seemed to be fairly smashed at the moment. Well, that was no reason to kill yourself. His lips spreading into a boyish grin as he decided that he could definitely sink way lower.  
  
//Stones to throw at my creator.  
  
Masochist to which I cater//  
  
Was he really that drunk? He waved a hand in front of his coca-dusted eyes and suddenly became startled by the many hands that waved back. He waved both now, staring intently. Heh heh... He had a lot of hands. Shit, he was out of it.  
  
Stumbling, he slowly got up and lumbered to the window. It was small but sufficient, showing the whole of Domino City in all its fluorescent beauty. There was a Rudolph and His Reindeer Friends display in front of a run-down 7-11. Blitzen was missing an antler and Comet seemed to be lacking his entire head. A Santa Claus who seemed just as intoxicated as he was rung a small bell for the Salvation Army. He lived up to his name, involuntarily shaking like a bowl full of jelly. Probably because he was a heroin addict with the shakes. This struck Bakura as extremely hilarious, and he stumbled backward laughing, before tripping over the empty tequila bottle and cracking his head against the wall.  
  
//You don't need to bother  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther//  
  
He was cold. Shivering, he crawled across the room on hands and knees and curled up on his bed with the only sheet he owned. Deep red blood fell from the gash on his forehead and landed on his pale skin. It looked out of place there and Bakura leaned down to lick it off. It gave him a sense of serenity. That something was right in this crazy, fucked-up life he was living. How drinking his own blood provided that for him I couldn't tell you.  
  
//But once I hold on,  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds//  
  
He'd said goodbye to everyone when he'd moved away from Ryou. At the time, he was protecting the young, innocent hikari. Had he wanted him? Maybe. Ryou was funny, handsome, and could easily pull off as sexy. But he couldn't help wondering if he knew all along that he could never really have the magnolia-haired angel. He was too much for Bakura, too special. "Get someone who'd really love you, kid..." Bakura had whispered to Ryou the night he'd left. The light was sleeping soundly and it was all Bakura could do to keep from crawling under the covers with him.  
  
"Someone who will love you... But stay away from the pharaoh... He'd only make you miserable, complaining and bitching about the shadow games, and what not-"  
  
That's when it struck Bakura that he was starting to sound like he was speaking from experience which scared the hell out of him. By that point, he'd figured... time to leave.  
  
//Wish I was too dead to care  
  
If indeed I cared at all//  
  
The thing was... he almost missed them all. Ryou, his soft hair falling in his eyes when he laughed. Eyes that looked so much like Bakura's but weren't the same because the tomb robber was scarred. And... Yugi. He was really interesting once you got to know him. A throw pillow, but interesting. And... maybe even the pharaoh. Ra, what an ass, in more ways then one.  
  
But he'd had his reasons to leave them all. He couldn't stand to be there. He was tired of having the blood of others on his hands. He'd lost someone that way, someone he'd loved very much. And he'd be damned if the same happened to Ryou, or any of the others. No he was meant to be away from people, do as he knew he should and continue licking his wounds alone.  
  
//Never had a voice to protest,  
  
So you fed me shit to digest//  
  
He sighed, waiting for the feelings of remorse to pass him. But he only got sadder, and lonelier, and colder... and older.  
  
//I wish I had a reason,  
  
My flaws are open season  
  
For this I gave up trying,  
  
One good turn deserves my dying//  
  
What if he did kill himself? He endangered others with his need for power, his lust for it. He dreamed of it. Power. An intoxicating thing. He knew its scent. The smell of darkness, crisp snow, ink on paper... brass... warm blood, cut from your heart... and... her perfume. God, it turned him on. The smell of power turned him on! Leaning against the wall with a low moan, he smiled, wondering if it were just her perfume that got him going.  
  
//You don't need to bother  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther//  
  
Sometimes, he would close his eyes to go to sleep at night and not know what he was going to see. Would it be Ryou, sitting at the breakfast table half-asleep, looking his sexiest, and grinning? Or someone else... Jesus, her.  
  
It never had been Isis, this he knew. The real Isis wouldn't have had anything to do with him. She came to him sometimes in the evening, to bring him his supper. Bananas usually. Being in the dungeon of the palace, the prince didn't care what you ate so long as it didn't give you enough strength to escape. He'd never understood why he'd been stuck there in the first place. All he'd done was try to kill the Pharaoh. A minor offense. But still, when the nights were cool... and the palace was quiet... she'd sneak down to the dungeon... for her own midnight snack.  
  
//But once I hold on,  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds//  
  
The thought of her, the anticipation... God, the smell of her... Her perfume... It kept him alive for many years in that dungeon. And it took him only a few nights after realizing that the Isis that came to him in the night wasn't the same Isis whose shrill tongue and aloof air kept him in his place during the day. And only a few nights after that did he realize that he was in love with this darker presence that lived beneath her soft, tanned skin... But that was a long time ago.  
  
//Wish I died, instead of lived  
  
A zombie hides my face//  
  
She knew what was going on between him and the other side of her. She wasn't able to look him in the eye after everything she knew he'd done to her body when she wasn't present in it. He didn't tease her about it, only thanked her for the food and hoped to Ra that she would allow that darker presence to come to him.  
  
So many of the men in Southern Egypt wanted her. Isis. Bakura may have, though he'd never been in love with her. It was this other part of her... The one that only emerged in the shadow of night... the one that laughed wickedly and called out when he'd done things to please her... the one that practically commanded him with the wave of her hand... This Isis he was in love with. Her dark side. Her Yami, he supposed. And then... there came change.  
  
//Shelf forgotten, with it's memories  
  
Diaries left, with cryptic entries//  
  
She'd left him because of her own lust for power. Can you believe it? Sold him out. She had only wanted him for his own want, need, for it. That had kept him for truly being happy. Two people who can only think of one sin can never be happy, even with another who also craves it. She had been his sacrifice. And for what? A shit-hole apartment in the back streets of Domino? A millennium ring, weak without Ryou nearby? The view of a drunken Santa Claus sprawled over Rudolph who'd only recently become a drive-by victim? Fuck sacrifice. He wanted her back.  
  
//And you don't need to bother,  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther//  
  
If he could only have her in his arms... Jesus, what would he do first? Maybe he'd kiss her... Reaching to his lips, he touched a scar long faded but one he could still taste the blood from. She'd bitten him during their last kiss, their last night together. She'd been amazing, as always. Lying there, on the stone floor of the dungeon, watching her dress, he whispered the magic words,  
  
"I love you..."  
  
"I know..." She'd sighed, reaching for her other slipper. "And this is why we can never be together..."  
  
"What?" He sat up, looking into her bright jade eyes.  
  
"You have lost sight of the true objective... You do not think of anything but these secret meetings... And not because of our planning our rise to power." She'd looked him in the eyes, hers like daggers, piercing his wounded heart. "You are not enough to satisfy me. We can be nothing more then lovers because you do not have the abilities I was convinced you did. And it sickens me." Without another word, she'd kissed him, biting the skin of his bottom lip, and left him, bleeding only a little, but bruised for life.  
  
//But once I hold on,  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds//  
  
He wanted her. He'd never gotten over her. He could never be happy with Ryou because of what she did to him. Curse her... To the fires of hell... Where they could be together... Damnit... It'd been too long.  
  
//And you don't need to bother  
  
I don't need to be//  
  
Every moment he spent in this world caused him to die a little more... Every night he went to bed lonely... Every morning he woke up that way... Every time he wanted to touch someone and just couldn't bring himself to raise his fingers... His life was hell and he would just continue fall down... until he hit the bottom...  
  
//I'll keep slipping farther//  
  
Standing, he stumbled to the window. When he saw the ambulance taking someone away on a stretcher, one sleeve clad in red and white, gripping a candy cane, it became too cliché, too ironic, too much, all of it, and he put his fist through the glass. Shards of icy crystal fell to the carpet and he picked one up eagerly, fumbling with it, trying to make the cut. Blood fell from his palm where he gripped it and he held it up over his wrist. He could visualize the blood. His fall. The dark red liquid oozing over his soft, snowy skin. The ceiling spinning. His own death. But when no matter how hard he tried, the glass would never touch his skin, only stopped short by his own trembling hands.  
  
//But once I hold on//  
  
Falling back against the carpet, dropping the glass, he let out a shrill cry of despair and anguish. Curling up on the floor of the tiny apartment, he realized that he could never kill himself, never end it, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to endure an eternity... a forever of being utterly, hopelessly alone. Lost in the solitary prison of his own heart. As he closed his eyes, he felt her body beside him, listened to her laughter, smelled her perfume... How could he possibly live without her?  
  
//I'll never return my deceits//  
  
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So tell me? One-shot? Should it die now? Do you hate the pairings? Too cliché? WHAT?! I need feedback on this one badly!!! 


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